Forever Young
by PerdHapleyfan
Summary: Partridge Central High's twenty year reunion is around the corner, and Ben Wyatt can't wait to show everyone that he's a happy, successful adult. There's only one problem: he isn't. He spins an elaborate story about his life, but when he falls for the last person he ever expected to, he may discover a real happy ending within his reach. Ben's pov
1. Chapter 1

The spoon makes a god-awful sound against the bowl when I scrape at what's left of my chocolate pudding. It doesn't even taste good; I only ordered it because the diner is out of banana cream pie. But, scraping at these little specks of brown is the only thing I can think of to pass the time during the most horrendously awkward situation I've ever gotten myself into so I just keep on scraping.

The flyer for "JJ's Diner Wednesday Night Speed Dating" on the bulletin board at City Hall made this sound like a fun, new way to meet single women in Pawnee, but that was highly misleading.

Jean-Ralphio Saperstein, Pawnee's answer to the cast of the Jersey Shore, is the only other guy I see here, and the average age of the women who've shown up is probably seventy-three.

I've been avoiding any form of communication since the first woman I'm supposed to schmooze took her seat across from me because the prospect of hitting on a woman who bears a striking resemblance to my Gram-Gram disturbs me, but it becomes apparent the silence between us I've enjoyed so far is about to be broken when she clears her throat. "Have you been in town long?"

"No" I say. "It's only been a couple of months."  
"Well, where's home?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You know… home" she repeats, with an edge in her voice, as if I've missed something obvious. "Where you go for the holidays, where you want to settle down someday?"

"Right" I nod. "Home." That's a perfectly normal question for a person to ask when they're getting to know someone. It's a benign piece of trivia everyone has an answer to. Everyone except me I guess. I could tell her where I'm from, but that really wouldn't answer her question. I haven't even been back to Partridge since I was eighteen. "I actually have no idea-"

Thankfully, I'm interrupted by JJ's disgruntled shouting from across the restaurant. "Next table!"

For a moment, I consider offering my "date" a parting handshake, but the overwhelming stench of her Bengay reminds me why this night has been so damn uncomfortable so I just grab my coat and head toward the door.

However, before I can make it there that skinny-jean clad moron Jean-Ralphio appears, blocking my path. He immediately breaks into an improvised rap as if we're in some sort of bizarre, hellish musical. "B- to the e- to the n-j-i, yeah Benji's got swagger and the dopest tie." He stops to feel the silk material, and then tilts his head as if he's contemplating something. "Seriously, my man where did you buy this tie?"

"I don't know" I say, snatching it out of his hand. "Sears I think."

"For real? I didn't think anyone actually bought stuff there."

"Well, that's how businesses work, Jean-Ralphio. People purchase goods which creates revenue…"

"Dude, stop. I don't need a Social Studies lesson; I just want to know why you're taking off. These women are like mad easy to go home with."

"They're… elderly."

"That one's not" he says, gesturing to a nearby table. "Joanie is recently divorced, and down to clown if you know what I mean."  
A head of sandy-brown curls turns towards me, and I groan when I recognize her face.

"Joanie" is Joan Calamezzo of channel 4 news, Pawnee's hot mess of a female news anchor. And, per usual, she's plastered.  
Jean-Ralphio winks at me with an asinine grin on his face while he's walking away like he's done me a favor, and for a fleeting moment I consider punching him in the mouth.

"Hello sailor" Joan slurs, staggering in my direction. "What's somebody like you doing in a place like this?"

"That's a really good question Joan" I sigh. "Now that I think about it, I have no idea."

"Well, how about you and I ditch this old pop stand, and head to my place?"

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure?" she whispers. "Because I can show you things they only write about in textbooks, if you know what I mean."

I don't. But I'd prefer to keep it that way so I head for the door. "Listen Joan, I've had a long day. I'm just going to head back to my place and get some sleep-"

"You're sure going to need some sleep when I'm through with you and that strange Jewish boy over there" she says with a wink that sends a chill down my spine. I make a mad dash for the door.

So far this just might be the worst night of my life, but as I sprint down the sidewalk- and any potential for a three way between Joan and John Ralphio- I notice that it's snowing outside.

The first snow of the year always reminds me of how excited snow would make me when I was a kid. I'd sit in front of the window for ages watching the flurries, drinking hot cocoa, and planning my snow fort strategy. I wish anything in the world could make me that happy now.

A few kids in Ramset Park are laughing and running around, and a couple on a bench are snuggling together to keep warm. It's so annoyingly perfect, like I've stumbled into a Kincaid painting or something. The air even smells like Christmas between the overwhelmingly high pine tree concentration of this area of town and the street vendor on the corner selling fresh cinnamon buns.

For a fleeting moment I experience something resembling happiness, but the broken day-glow sign for the Sycamore Motel blinking in the distance reminds me that I'm on my way back to that little room with that uncomfortable bed covered by that awful floral print blanket, and it makes me sick inside.  
(My outlook on life has been altered significantly since the television in my room broke. Apparently, the free HBO had been the one small thread holding the tapestry of my life together.)

At least Wednesday is over now. Three down, two to go.


	2. Chapter 2

The longer I stare at the clock on my desk the more confidence I grow in my far-fetched conspiracy theory that it moves at least twice as slow as all other clocks in the world.  
In fact, I bet that's what happened. Everyone in the world got together and said "you know what? Ben's life doesn't suck quite enough. Let's make time move excruciatingly slowly the hour before he gets out of work."  
I know that I don't have anything to get home to, other than a TV dinner the mini fridge of my motel room and reruns of Fringe, but I feel like I'm suffocating in this damn office. It's just like every other office I've ever worked in. Just like every other office in Indiana and probably the world. Four white walls, a swivel chair, a book case filled with reports and statistical analysis, and a desk that could be lined with pictures of my beautiful wife and children. But, instead, it reflects my real life. Empty.  
If I don't get out of here soon, I'm know I will lose my mind completely.  
The second hand moves closer to the 12, and I become as excited as a kid on the last day of school. "5…4..3…2…"  
"Ben Wyatt!" Chris Trager announces happily, as he swings the door to my office wide open.  
"Hey, Chris" I say, trying to mask my annoyance. "What's going on?"  
"I was hoping to ask you a favor."  
"Yeah, what's that?"  
"Leslie Knope has gone on her honeymoon, and there's no one left to fill the void left in her absence."  
"And you want to know if there's room in the budget to hire a temporary replacement?"  
"No" he says. "Since tax season has officially ended, I was hoping you'd be willing to form a small task-force with one of your co-workers to fill in for Ms. Knope."  
"I think I can handle it on my own" I scoff. "She does it by herself."  
"Ben, Leslie Knope single-handedly does the work of four different people. Why last year alone she established a completely new filing system which increased office productivity by twenty percent, and -"  
"Okay!" I say. "I get it, Leslie's awesome. Who else is on the task force?"  
"April Ludgate. Her internship has just finished so the timing is literally perfect."  
"Yeah, except April is terrifying. I'm pretty sure she wants to murder me."  
"Oh? Why's that?"  
"Because the first time I met her she looked me over and said 'I'd enjoy murdering you."'  
"Well, that does sound like something she'd say, but I can assure you with almost absolute certainty that she was probably kidding."  
"That's reassuring" I say. "When do we start?"  
"Tomorrow."  
"Tomorrow? You want me to drop everything I'm doing and take over someone else's job by tomorrow?"  
"Yes!" he says, grinning like an idiot. "That'd be great."  
I sigh as I watch him walk out. This is going to be a long night.

I drift into one of those dreams that you know is dream while it's happening, but it's so damn perfect that you just want to hold onto it for as long as possible. I'm married to my high school girlfriend Cindy Eckert, we have three kids, a Labrador Retriever, a white picket the whole nine yards. We live next door to my parents, who aren't ashamed of my existence, and I'm still the town mayor. Everyone in Partridge loves me, and I've saved enough money to gather the largest collection of Star Wars memorabilia worldwide…. Suddenly, something is poking me in the arm and repeating a phrase over and over next to my ear in a deadpan tone.  
"Hey, get up. Hey, get up. Hey, get up. Hey, get up. Hey, get up. Hey, get up. Hey, get up. Hey, get up."  
"Hmph" I moan.  
"GET UP!" she screams in my ear, waking me.  
"April? What the hell? What are you doing in my office so late?"  
"Uh, it's not late dude, it's early. It's like 9 in the morning."  
I shake my computer mouse to check the time. "Really? Oh my God, I must have fallen asleep."  
"That's some great detective work there Nancy Drew, maybe now you can solve the mystery of why you're wearing the world's ugliest tie."  
"My niece bought me this tie."  
"Yeah, well your niece screwed you over, you should burn it."  
"Is there something I can help with you, April."  
"Yeah, we're supposed to be working together."  
"Right" I sigh. "I almost forgot."  
"Leslie had a presentation scheduled for this afternoon, so I could work on that while you do whatever…"  
"Sounds great" I say. "I'm glad you're actually taking initiative here."  
"Gee thanks mister" she says sarcastically, but I think I see a hint of a smile. Maybe working with April won't be so bad after all.


End file.
